


Lay of the Land

by shotboxer



Series: Taken in Hand AU [3]
Category: Primeval
Genre: AU, Dubious Consent, Legally mandated consent, Other, Spanking, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 17:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7183427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotboxer/pseuds/shotboxer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen isn't handling being a new handheld as well as he'd like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay of the Land

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Primeval, its characters or anything else associated with it. I am making no money from this.
> 
> Please Note: In real life I only advocate spanking practiced between consenting adults. In fiction I read and write any and all spanking. This is a work of fiction and it contains spanking. Don't like, don't read.
> 
> Any mistakes in British English, the portrayal of British culture or other inconsistencies are entirely my own. This fic was written to entertain, not to be an accurate reflection of ‘the real world’. There may be inaccuracies ahead. You have been warned.
> 
> This follows immediately on from the previous fic in the series, Transfer Protocol.

Stephen woke to Nick’s snoring.  His watchover had his face smashed against the pillow, dead to the world.  Stephen slid out from under the covers and tottered into the bathroom to use the toilet and splash water on his face.  He winced as he reached back to rub experimentally at his bottom.  It felt better than it had the night before, but it was still tender.  Stephen knew that he wouldn’t be comfortable for a while.  He supposed a mid-range spanking as an adult would be much harder than anything anyone would have given a child back in the far past, when they still did those things.  Odd that the association had remained between children and spanking when the punishment had been reserved for criminals for at least a hundred years.  A sore bottom didn’t make Stephen feel very adult.  He turned his thoughts elsewhere as specters of last night’s dream rose in his mind. 

Stephen stepped into the shower.  He washed himself carefully, ghosting the washcloth over his bottom and scrubbing firmly everywhere else.  He felt better once he was vigorously clean, shaven and dressed.  He checked on Nick and found him still snoring.  Stephen padded downstairs in stocking feet and began looking for coffee and breakfast.  He made himself some eggs and toasted one of the scones Nick had mentioned the night before.  He set his meal on the counter so he could eat standing up.  He had finished his eggs and half of the scone and started on his second cup of coffee when Nick stumbled into the room.  The older man was still in his t-shirt and boxers, a dressing gown tossed over his sleepwear.  Stephen gestured to the stove with his mug.  “There’s eggs if you want.  Coffee’s there on the counter.”

Nick smiled, “Cheers.  The eggs look good.”  He served himself and sat at the table.  He glanced up at Stephen.  “Are you going to sit?  I can get you a pillow if that would help?  Or you can stand. Whatever you’d like.”

 “You didn’t offer me a pillow last night.”

Nick’s face fell.  “Oh, er, I’m sorry about that.  Another thing for me to correct in the future.”

Stephen hid his smirk in his coffee as Nick bustled out of the room and returned with two pillows, setting them on the chair nearest Stephen.  Stephen eyed them for a moment and then set his mug on the table and carefully lowered himself to sit.  He wasn’t sure why he was being this cautious.  He’d survived the same unpadded seat last night, and his bottom had had the whole night to heal.  Nick cleared his throat.  “How are they?”

 “They’re okay.  Not that soft but they do the job.”

“I’ll get some softer ones.  CSD has a list on their website of recommended products and vendors.  I’ll try the CAAS website as well.” 

Stephen blinked at the mention of the Contracter Advocacy and Aid Society.  He’d forgotten about them.  He needed more coffee.  “There’s more to this than I ever suspected, isn’t there?”

“From what I’ve seen, neither of us has even begun to scratch the surface of Cont World.  There’s the usual, you know, secret societies bent on world domination, shady procurement organizations, exclusive clubs . . .”

Stephen attempted a smirk and failed.  “Legally mandated conspiracy. It’s the perfect cover.  Cont World?”

“That’s what the trainers called it.  Cont World, as opposed to Norm World.’” Nick shrugged and took a sip of his coffee.  “Different worlds, different rules.”  He set his coffee mug down and sobered.  “Speaking of, now is a good time to have that conversation about rules and expectations.”

Stephen was glad he’d already finished his food.  He set his coffee down and swallowed.  “Sure, uh, might as well get it over with.”

Nick folded his hands on the table in front of him.  “The first three years of the contract you are under strict standards.  That means I need to know where  you are at all times, what you’re doing and who you’re with.”  He ran his hand over the back of his neck.  “I don’t need specifics, whatever the contract says.  You tell me what your schedule is, where, what, who and keep me updated on any changes by text.  If you go somewhere where you have to turn your mobile off, text me when you do with the time I can expect to be able to reach you again.  Text me again when you turn it back on to confirm.  Any questions?”

Stephen shook his head as he turned his mug between his hands.  Nick continued.  “Disrespect’s not something I’m fussed about.  You act like an adult, treat people like you’ve always treated them.  There are people we’ll need to careful around.  Like it or not, some of the folks at ADCA and elsewhere can make things difficult if they get their backs up.  If it comes to it, I’ll tell you when you’re getting near the line and I expect you to back off.  If you don’t you’ll be in trouble.  Not for disrespect, whatever that means.  For not exercising some self-preservation.  Got it?”

“Got it.”

“I think that covers everything about the strict standards.  Now we move on to my personal rules.  Do you want some more coffee?”

“Uh, no, um, thanks.  No.”  Stephen didn’t think he could keep anything down right at the moment.  He wished he could at least control his own voice.  It didn’t help to hear himself stammering like the shy, awkward teenager he’d thought he’d left behind when he went to university.

“My rules are simple.  Don’t violate your contract.  Don’t do anything that will invite a review by CSD or any other government agency.  Don’t do anything illegal.  All of that should go without saying.  Don’t lie to me.  That includes lies of omission.  If you think I might have a problem with something, you’re probably right, so check with me first.  You’re an adult and you know when something isn’t right and I expect you to act like it.  You will be in extra trouble if you don’t own up to your mistakes and try and wiggle out of things on a technicality.  You may not argue back when I impose a punishment simply for the sake of arguing.  Still with me?”

“Yeah.”  Stephen cleared his throat. “I, actually, I, can I ask for stuff?  For a hug?  Or does that count as trying to wiggle out of things?”

“No.  I _expect_ you to tell me what you’re feeling and what you think you need so I can make sure you get it.”  Nick regarded Stephen over his clasped hands.  “I’m telling you now, Stephen, I am going to be strict with you.  I don’t want to spend all my time spanking you, but I will if it helps you toe the line.”

Stephen did his best not to breath too deeply and trigger his gag reflex.  He licked his lips and nodded.  Nick leaned forward.  “One final thing.  If you’re feeling upset or guilty or you just feel off, tell me.  Stewing over things until they affect your behavior is not acceptable.  Is that clear?”

“As crystal.”  Stephen finally managed to get his voice to come out in the confident tone he wanted.

“Any issues with the rest of the rules?”

Stephen shook his head.  He  rose and began to gather his dishes.  Nick rose, took the dishes from Stephen and set them in the sink.  He faced Stephen and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.  “How are you feeling right now?  Upset?  A bit at sea?”

Stephen glared.  “Of course I am.  How else am I supposed to feel about all this?”

“Stephen.  What did I just tell you about that?”  Stephen pressed his lips together.  His disciplinary guardian sighed.  “I asked if you were clear on the rules and you said ‘as crystal.’  Ring any bells?”

Stephen clenched his teeth.  “I’m ‘adjusting.’ It’s not . . .”

“I think you know that what you’re feeling is important, my held.”

“You can’t expect me to tell you every little thing about this I’m struggling with.”

“Do you think it’s unreasonable to expect you to follow a rule after I’ve told it to you and you’ve said you understand?”

“No.  Yes.” Stephen ran his hands over his face.  “It’s reasonable.  You weren’t talking about normal reactions to stuff.  I mean . . .”

“You’re right.  I should have been more specific.  But you didn’t ask me to clarify.”

“Does that mean I broke the rule or not?”

“Do you think you did?”

“No?”  Stephen tried again.  “No.  But I should’ve clarified instead of, uh, ignoring a rule I’d just been told.”  It felt, not good, but . . . _satisfying_ , to own up to his behavior instead of being dragged along to discipline in a funk of willful self deception. 

“I agree.”  _What about when you don’t agree?  My opinion won’t matter then, will it_?  Not that it mattered now, given Nick’s _legal obligation_.  The Taken in Hand law didn’t care about fair or not fair.  “You’re not in trouble for not telling me.  I do expect you to let me  know when you’re struggling from now on.”

“What about you?  You’re just going to get everything right on the first try?” 

“Of course I’m going to cock some things up.”

“Except no one’s going to spank you when you do.”

“I can’t change the nature of this relationship, Stephen.”

“I know.” Stephen huffed. 

“You’re having trouble acting like it.”

Stephen forced down a retort.  He decided to try an experiment.  “I’m feeling . . . aggrieved about that.  Like it’s unfair.”  That helped somewhat.  It wasn’t as satisfying as acknowledging his mistake had been.  He did feel like he had more control of the situation now than he’d had before he’d spoken.

A smile ghosted across Nick’s face.  “Good word for it.  Well done telling me.” 

Stephen ground his teeth.  “Don’t patronize me, Nick.”

“I’m not.  I’m being your disciplinary guardian.  Discipline is as much about positive reinforcement as punishment.”  Nick ran a hand across the back of his neck.  “I figured it was better than saying I was proud of you.”

Stephen shifted.  “You should’ve gone with that instead.”  He felt the tips of his ears go pink.  “And I appreciate the, uh, the compliment.”

“Well I _am_ proud of you for it.  You’ve done much better so far than I’m sure I’d do if I were in your place.”

“Thanks.” 

Stephen shyly raised his arms and stepped forward.  Nick met him with the same warm, strong hug he’d given Stephen in the matching room and before bed.  After a moment, Nick stepped back with a rub to Stephen’s back.  “You obviously weren’t listening to me if you felt you could turn around and ignore a rule right after you were told it.  To help you remember to listen to me and do as I tell you, I am going to spank you.” 

Stephen’s stomach dropped.  Nick reached up and squeezed Stephen’s shoulder.  “You going to fight me on that?”

Stephen blinked.  “No?  I don’t want it but I guess you’ve a point.”  He was not going to ask for the benefit of the doubt.  It didn’t exist for handhelds.  “I thought I wasn’t allowed to push back?”

“You can push back, you’ll just be spanked more if you do.”

“Self preservation.”

“Aye.  And remembering to talk to me when you’ve a problem with something instead of throwing a tantrum.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Maybe.  I’m told it’s fairly common.”

“Not for me.”  He ignored the hind part of his brain that had latched onto the idea of throwing a fit and decided that that sounded like a wonderful, cathartic idea and wouldn’t it feel _so good_ to just let loose?  “So where . . .”

Nick took his arm and pulled him firmly along toward the lounge.  “On the couch.”  They arrived and Nick sat, keeping a hold on Stephen’s wrist.  “Trousers down and bend over.”

Stephen swallowed hard enough to make his ears pop. He had to take several deep breaths but he was able to lower his jeans himself this time.  He stood looking down at Nick’s lap and shifted from foot to foot.  Stephen saw Nick’s hand rise toward him and made his knees bend. He did an ungainly belly flop over his watchover’s thighs, falling into position with a surprised ‘ooomph.’  Nick murmured, “Well done” as he pulled Stephen’s boxers down.  He rested his hand on Stephen’s bare bottom.  Stephen flinched.  “We both signed the contract.  Your half said you would accept my authority over you.  That means you listen to me when I tell you things and follow the rules I give you.”

Nick’s hand slapped down.  The sensation of hard hand against still tender skin shot through Stephen like an electric current.  He recognized the way his body jerked with each spank.  Nick was spanking him just as hard as he had yesterday in the matching room.  Stephen realized that tears were running from his eyes.  He blinked furiously. The spanks kept coming.  His watchover hadn’t been joking about being strict. Stephen put his hand over his face and cried.  He wished there was something for him to clutch in his fist and bury his face against other than the rough upholstery of the couch.  Finally, Nick’s voice sounded above him, “All done, my held.  Take your time.  I’m going to bring your shorts up and you can come up for a hug whenever you want.”

Stephen scrambled upright as soon as his boxers were back up, moving even before Nick’s hand had released the elastic.  He felt like he might fly apart at a wrong look.  Every time he thought he was handling his new status, something happened and he was lost again.  Stephen wanted the solidity of Nick’s arms around him, the feeling of a hug full of affection and patience.  Nick was still seated and Stephen stood over him, hands clenching open and closed at his sides.  The distance to Nick’s solid chest felt like it was six storeys straight down. 

Nick rose to meet Stephen and pull him into that wonderful hug.  Stephen wrapped his arms around Nick like he was a giant teddy bear that could make it all go away if only Stephen held him tight enough.  His mind was a jumble of _My bum hurts so much.  I don’t want to be a handheld anymore.  I want this to be over.  Please don’t make me leave. I don’t want to be spanked again.  I never want this hug to end._ Nick’s lips were right next to his ear.  “I know. It’s been a hard couple of days.  You have a good cry, ween.  Get it all out.”

Stephen had cried himself out in the matching room and in Nick’s arms the night before and here he was sobbing again.  With a bottom that was twice as sore as before.  Nick swayed them from side to side and cupped a hand on the back of Stephen’s head. Stephen didn’t think there were enough tears to get it all out.  He stepped away and pulled his jeans up.  _I have to get used to feeling this way._   He dropped his eyes to the floor.  Best to learn to rely on the few things he could still control.  “Can we not use the couch again?  It was scratchy and there wasn’t anything to hold onto.” He hoped he could rely on Nick to keep his word about giving Stephen what he said he needed. 

Nick nodded.  “No couch unless there’s no alternative.  Anything more you think you need?”

“You said something about cream earlier.  Can we try that?”

“Sure.  Let’s go up to your room.”  Nick raised an arm and looped it over Stephen’s shoulder lightly, waiting a moment before letting the weight of it settle down and pull Stephen closer to him. 

Stephen was a bit dizzy.  He had spent so much time either crying or taking deep breaths that his chest ached from the strain.  He concentrated on speech to ward off the gray creeping in at the edges of his vision.  “You know I haven’t been a little anything since I was twelve?”

“I never said you were little.”

“Ween?”

“It’s not meant to be literal.  Cream should be in the cupboard here.”  The pressure of Nick’s arm against the side of Stephen’s neck increased as Nick reached into a tall, thin cupboard next to the bathroom.  The older man extracted a squat tub from the middle shelf and led them into Stephen’s room.  Nick sat on the bed, set the tub of cream behind him and tugged on Stephen’s arm.  “Over you go.” 

Stephen went with the tug without thinking and found himself once again draped over Nick’s thighs.  “You just spanked me, Nick!”

Nick’s fingers combed through the hair at the base of Stephen’s skull.  “I’m not going to spank you.  I’m going to rub the cream into your bottom like I promised.  Relax.” 

Stephen concentrated on the feeling of Nick’s hand caressing his nape.  Some of the tension coiled tight in his frame loosened.  He fisted the duvet and folded his arms under his chin.  The space between his arms felt hollow.  He tried mounding the duvet up between his elbows, but it only made a small hump, not nearly large enough to fill the void.  Nick tapped Stephen’s back.  “Lift up a second.”  Stephen pushed up on his elbows.  Nick tugged the dressing gown he still wore free and peeled it off.  The wadded up gown appeared in front of Stephen.  “Try holding onto that.” 

Stephen closed his arms around the bundled cotton and scrunched it under his chin gratefully.  “That’s better, thanks.”

“Okay for now or do you need something to add to that?”

“It’s alright.  A pillow’d be too big.”

Nick’s hand returned to the nape of his neck while his other hand tugged Stephen’s boxers and jeans back down.  The firm pressure of massaging fingers on his head helped soften Stephen’s instinctive response to cool air meeting his exposed bottom.  Nick retrieved the tub of cream.  As gentle, assured sweeps of his watchover’s fingers smeared the cream into his sore skin, Stephen relaxed into Nick’s lap with a weary moan.  He let himself drift, eyes at half-mast.  He wasn’t aware of dozing off until Nick was jostling his shoulder.  “T’anks.  Feels b’ter.”

“Glad to hear it.  Let’s get you settled for a nap.”

“Unh unh.  Don’ need nap.  C’fee.”

“Lie down and rest your eyes.  I’ll make the coffee.”

Stephen slid under the covers.  The pillow felt soft and welcoming against his cheek.  “Tricky.”

He didn’t hear Nick’s reply. 

 

Stephen slitted gummy eyes open, nose filling with the smell of coffee.  He climbed out of bed and had to steady himself against the door jamb for a minute, integrating the feel of a sorer bum into his consciousness.  He wanted coffee and he wanted his bottom not to hurt.  Stephen hissed his way to the bathroom to wash his face, then padded down to the kitchen to deal with the one thing he could do something about.  Nick smiled at him as he entered the room, holding out a steaming mug.  “How’re you feeling?”

“Like you spanked me too hard.”

Nick turned to face Stephen and leaned back against the counter, bracing himself with his hands.  “It won’t do you any favors if I let you get away with bucking my authority.”

Stephen opened his mouth.

“I am in charge.  You listen to me and do as I say.  That is how this works.”

Stephen nodded.  He took the coffee with surprisingly steady hands.  “What happens when we go back to work?”

“We get on with our work.”  Nick belatedly caught on to what Stephen meant.  “I won’t spank you at work.”

“Okay.”  Stephen’s neck felt rubbery with all the nodding he’d been doing today.  “Lunch?”

“How’s leftover vegetable cheese sound?”

“Good.  Be better with some more pillows.”

“Oh, yes, I, of, of course.  I should’ve thought.  I’m sorry.  I’ve been preoccupied.  As you have.  Alright . . .”     

Stephen couldn’t stop himself from finding Nick’s flailing funny.  “So are you going to tell me where they are?”

“They?  What?”

“The pillows?”

“Oh.  I’ll just . . . you think I’m being funny, huh?”

Stephen stopped trying to suppress his grin.  “You’re cute when you’re scrambling.”

“Cute?  Oh, I’ll give you cute . . .” Nick lunged forward, causing Stephen to yelp and fumble his coffee.  Nick kept coming.  He took Stephen’s mug, set it aside on the counter and pulled Stephen into a hug.  Stephen was enjoying his laughter too much to think strategically.  He slumped into the hug, snickering, and jerked upright again with a squeak as Nick’s fingers expertly found their way across his ribs, tickling with aplomb.  “Ack!  No, ack, come on.  Nick!  Geroff!  Nick, stoppit, eek!”

Stephen twisted out from between Nick and the counter and backed out of the kitchen with his hands up.  Nick followed, grinning and waggling his fingers menacingly. “Now who’s scrambling?  You’re headed the right way for the pillows already.  Let me help you along . . .” 

Stephen squawked and turned to run as Nick charged him.  The two men pounded through the house, giggling and yelping and throwing taunts and threats at each other as they met, battled to tickle and block and tickle back, and separated again only to recollide for another bout.  By the time they found themselves by the closet that held the extra pillows, Stephen had turned the tables and Nick was on the defensive.  Nick seized the chance and grabbed a pillow out of the closet, throwing it at the approaching Stephen and following it with another.  Stephen snatched both pillows up and proceeded to turn the tickle fight into a two-handed, one-sided pillow fight.  Nick raised his arms to defend his head from a feathery thumping and ducked under Stephen’s windmilling arms to dig his fingers into his handheld’s sides.  Stephen shoved Nick away and lobbed a pillow at his head to make sure he stayed back.  Nick snatched up the pillow and the pillow fight became an equal contest.  A good ten minutes of buffeting and chasing and the occasional attempt at a one-handed tickle later, Nick flopped down on the couch in the lounge, wheezing as he smiled.  Stephen leaned gasping against the arm of the couch with a matching Cheshire cat grin on his face.  “Guess we found the pillows.”

“You can sit in relative comfort to eat  your lunch. The coffee will be cold by now.” 

Stephen shook with intermittent after-shock chortles.  That bout of the sillies had felt wonderful while it lasted.  Now he felt increasingly hollow and shaky.  He hoped it was just a physical reaction to too much coffee and not enough food and water.  “I can make more.”

Nick stretched to his feet and tossed Stephen his pillow.  “Nah, let me.  You heat the casserole back up.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, our care officer called while you were napping.  Johanna Thorne.  We’ve an appointment to meet with her first thing in the morning.  She seemed keen to get us out to an event or two.”

“Get us socializing with our own kind?”

“I imagine so.”

“It’s a good idea.  I can pump other handhelds for ways to keep you from spanking me so much.”

Stephen stilled as he realized what he’d said.  _Other handhelds.  Handhelds like me._   Nick spoke over his shifting self-image.  “You can keep from being spanked by following the rules.  I think I saw a flyer for a regular Saturday night social when we were in the Matching Center.  We could start there, if you like?”

“Sure.”  Stephen set the timer on the oven and backed away from the heat, rubbing unconsciously at his backside.  He felt the heat in his face increase.  Nick’s hand settled on his shoulder and his watchover leaned against his side.  “Just us here.  Do what you want about it. Any thing you need right now?”

“I have no idea!”  Stephen took yet another deep breath.  “I don’t know what I want.  Everything is, it feels, I don’t want to be a handheld.  You’ve spanked me twice already.  I can’t think about this without making it worse.  I can try and tell you or I can be good.  I don’t want another spanking so please Nick, stop asking, because _I don’t know_!”

Nick paused.  He stooped to retrieve the pillows they’d abandoned in the doorway when they’d returned from the lounge.  He added them to the pillows already on Stephen’s chair.  “Why don’t you have a seat.  I’ll get the laptop and we can look through some of the webshops recommended on the CSD website.  See if there’s anything we want to get.”

Stephen seized upon the distraction. “Let me get mine from upstairs.  We can both browse and compare notes.  You always get cranky when you have to share the mouse.”

“You just like being in the driver’s seat, admit it!”  Nick called to Stephen’s retreating back as his handheld bounded up the stairs.

The two halves of the Cutter-Hart Match surfed the web side by side for national and local businesses catering to contracters.  They ordered new pillows, including a separate set for the truck so Stephen could ride in relative comfort when the need arose.  Nick noticed Stephen perusing the sale sections for bedding and insisted on buying Stephen two new sets of sheets, a new duvet and a set of curtains.  He claimed it was “Watchover’s prerogative, now shush.” 

Nick tried to steer Stephen toward the parts of the websites featuring ‘soothing supplies.’  Stephen balked.  There was no way he was going to buy a cuddly toy to hold.  One of them was moronically called ‘The Distress Dolly,’ of all things.  He changed the subject to suggest that Nick look into contracter-friendly companies to  help with renovating the attic space.  Nick countered with a remark about finding a reputable painter to give him a quote on Stephen’s room.  Stephen flatly insisted that the quote should be for the whole house since it could obviously use it.  The debate was interrupted by the oven timer.  Food was fast becoming a welcome refuge from Stephen’s continued adjustment.

It was food and work that saw Stephen through the rest of the day.  He did an inventory of the kitchen and planned for dinner and breakfast.  Then he threw himself into a second inventory of his belongings, noting down what needed to be replaced.  He had surprisingly few pairs of underpants that did not have holes in them somewhere.  Between taking stock and catching up on his reading for work, Stephen was able to shove aside the feelings he did not want to examine.  When Nick hugged him goodnight after dinner, Stephen gratefully let fatigue drag him down into sleep, away from constant thoughts about his new status.

 

 

_The next morning, outside CSD headquarters . . ._

 

Nick and Stephen shared a look as they took a moment to catch their breathes.  That had been an exhausting experience.  Care Officer Johanna Thorne was no-nonsense, unsympathetic and had definite opinions about what was best for her newest clients.  She had whole-heartedly approved Nick’s strict approach and had decided that Stephen could do with repetitive prophylactic telling off.  Stephen had bitten his tongue so hard he’d drawn blood. 

Thorne had won Stephen over somewhat when she’d told him to stop hurting himself and grump back if it would  keep him from exploding. She’d  heard it all, water off a duck’s back, etc.  She had then informed them that not everyone was as understanding. Playacting was necessary for most “less formal” Matches when in the presence of authorities.  If Stephen couldn’t stay quiet, polite and deferential, it would be best for Nick to scold him loudly and swat him hard to ward off any reports that she would have no choice but to put into their permanent files.  An exaggerated show of embarrassed, tearful contrition on Stephen’s part would also be advisable.  You could never lay it on too thick, in her opinion. Stephen thought for a moment that she was going to insist that he and Nick practice their ‘acting’ right there in the office.  Instead, she had moved on to explaining all the ways that Stephen could be written up or reported by various authorities, what would trigger a review of his status by CSD or the court, and how the contents of his file would affect the outcome if there were a review or Stephen found himself back in court.  It all boiled down to ‘ _Stephen needs to be a good little handheld, or else_.’  Care Officer Thorne did not seem optimistic about Stephen’s chances of avoiding the ‘or else.’  Stephen was very glad when the appointment was over and he and Nick could escape the clutches of implacable bureaucracy. 

Nick suggested they take a walk around and enjoy the nice weather.  Stephen fell in step beside him, feeling almost normal as they ambled through the streets, pointing things out to each other and talking about nothing in particular.  They rounded a corner and Nick stopped them. “I thought I remembered it was supposed to be around here.”  He crossed the street without waiting for Stephen and headed for a shop with the words _Tarrant, Dart and Leavin_ over the door.  As the men entered, a cheerful woman greeted them with “Welcome to TDL!  Is this your first time in store?”

Stephen eyed Nick.  His watchover ignored him.  Stephen narrowed his eyes.  “Yes, this is our first visit.” 

The woman smiled, “Looking for something in particular or just browsing?” 

“Oh, we were just walking by and thought we’d come in and have a look.” Nick’s casual shrug confirmed Stephen’s suspicions. 

“Well, we pride ourselves on our knowledge of the products, so please ask if you’ve any questions or want a recommendation.  If we don’t have something in stock, we’re happy to order it for you.”

They thanked her and moved on.  Stephen scanned the cavernous space.  It stretched out before them, much deeper than it appeared from the street.  The shop looked like a venerable bookstore, all tall wooden shelves, warm lighting, wide counters and spacious aisles.  The department by the door was the books section.  The front shelves held all the latest bestsellers.  As they moved down the main aisle, the signs at the ends of the rows made it clear that the rest of the stock was all contracter material, from academic treatises, to self-help, to mystery and true crime.  There was even a romance section. 

After consulting a store directory, Stephen and Nick agreed to split up to explore.  Nick had tricked him into coming.  Stephen was not going to let himself be led around by the nose now that they were here.  Stephen headed toward Sporting Goods and Nick made a beeline for a department called Curios.  From Sporting Goods Stephen wandered on into Home Goods and then into Care and Wellbeing.  He skirted around the Discipline Goods and the ‘Authorized Access Only’ Discipline Furniture departments.  Stephen perused the shelves, trying to look casual.  A soft voice spoke next to his elbow.  “You’ve been circling the Soothers section for fifteen minutes.”

Stephen looked down into the face of a short, elderly man.  “I’m Les.  Les Leavin.  My father founded this place and it’s been my privilege to continue his work.  This’s always been my favorite place in all the store.  Come, let me show you some of my favorites.”  Les touched Stephen’s elbow briefly and stepped back, inviting, not demanding. 

“I’d like that, thank you.”  Stephen was drawn to the man’s serene enthusiasm.

“Hmmm, polite.  You’re either having a good day or your bum’s smarting.”  Stephen stiffened.  Les turned to him with a conspiratorial wink.  “There’s a ‘secret’ space in back for when you’re feeling a little less polite.  I’ll show you the code.  I used the place enough when I was younger.  Spent most of my breaks through my twenties in there doing my best to forget how much my poor bum stung.”

Stephen relaxed.  “You were a handheld?”

“Nah, just rebellious and too principled for my own good.  Disastrous combination.  Runs in the family.  Dad believed that you couldn’t serve a customer properly until you knew him and you couldn’t know him until you’d walked a mile in his shoes.  When I buckled down and started taking an interest in the family business, he offered to set me up with a mentor among the older employees.  It wasn’t legal by any means, but it worked about the same as a contract, discipline-wise.  A Tarrant, Dart and Leavin tradition.  Unique as far as I know.  I transitioned out of it when Hywel retired, but I ended up going back when Dad died suddenly and I and Marjorie had the place to run on our own.  That’s Marjorie Dart Killingham.  Uncle Paul – Paul Tarrant - didn’t have any kids so it fell to the two of us to keep things going.  Marjorie dealt by collecting a whole stable of mentees herself and I ended up being helped along by the  head of the shipping department.  Bit of a shock to be over someone’s knee again after so many years, but it settled me nicely.  So I know what’s what.”  Les favored Stephen with another wink.  “And I know my products.”  He spread an arm to encompass everything they could see.  “I do all the buying myself.  You won’t find a thing here that I haven’t personally tested.”

“You still test the products at your age?” 

“And I’ll keep right on doing it until the day they drag me out feet first.  Ah, here we are at Soothing.  From the look of you, I’d say you want a nice cuddle object and don’t want to admit it.”

“There’s nothing to admit.  I’m not the type, whatever you think you saw.” 

Les chuckled, “There’s the real reactions.  Definitely a mite sore, you are.”  He walked over to a seating area surrounded by shelves piled with plush animals, pillows, blankets and similar items.  Les selected a cloth rabbit and a plush dolphin with a blanket attached to its tail.  He dropped onto a overstuffed couch.  The store owner pulled his selections into his chest, set his chin atop them and gazed up at Stephen with twinkling eyes.  “Come down here and rest those big feet of yours.  Let me introduce you to Miss Buns.  She’s always been my favorite.”

Stephen didn’t think he was going to get away with saying no to this man, no matter what he tried.  He sat down beside Les and took the offered rabbit and turned it over in his hands.  “Miss Buns?”

“Terrible, I know.  Unfortunately, I’ve no say in what the manufacturers call things.  She’s a good’un though.  Well made and a joy to squeeze.”

Stephen squeezed the rabbit in his hands and agreed she was just the right combination of firm and yielding to his touch.

“She’s too small for your hands.  Hold Bubbles and I’ll bring you some other options.”

Stephen accepted the dolphin and wondered how he’d gotten himself into this and whether he wanted out or not. 

“You thinking of an animal, an object, a blanket, or some combination?  Ah, never mind, I’ll bring you a selection and we’ll see.”

Les collected a large wicker basket with the TDL logo painted on the side and tucked it under one arm. He moved about the shelves with deliberate purpose, choosing items and adding them to the basket, murmuring to himself as he went.  He returned to Stephen and set the full basket at his feet.  He pulled a chair over and sat facing Stephen side on.  “Let’s see if any of these catches your fancy.  How about this beauty? It’s hand-stitched locally by . . .”

“I’m not a little kid and I don’t need a, a, some _toy_!” It was out before Stephen could stop  himself. “I, I mean, thank you.  I appreciate your help, but I don’t think this is for me.”  Stephen got up and prepared to slink off with his head held high.

“Adults don’t deny themselves things just because of what they suppose others will think.” Les paused.  “The smart ones don’t anyway.” 

Stephen flushed.  He sat back down amidst the stuffed animals, feeling ashamed and ridiculous. Les rested a hand on Stephen’s arm.  “You’ll find that there are a great many things about being a contracter that never show up in the movies and the books.  Soothers are one.  I can promise you though, there’s not a handheld I’ve met who doesn’t have one tucked away somewhere.”  He held out the quilt to Stephen a second time.  Stephen took it.  It did look lovely, just the shade to coordinate with his new sheets.

Before he knew it, Stephen had narrowed the basket down to a handful of tempting options - plus a few that Les swore Stephen ought to get on his recommendation.  As Stephen was trying to work out if he would feel less of a prat leaving the store with or without a soother, a woman came into the seating area.  “I thought he might be holding you hostage over here.  If you’re Stephen, Nick’s looking for you.  I’ve been showing him around, but he’s wondering where you got off to.  I’ll  just let him know you’re in good hands and continue on with the grand tour.”

Les wagged a finger at his employee, “You watch it, missy.  Hostage indeed.  Superior customer service is what this is.  Now, Stephen, Ginny here has reminded me that I’ve much more to show you, so we’ll leave those for now and you can have a think and come back at the end to decide.” Les hopped up and strode ahead.  Stephen trailed after him, falling into step with Ginny.  “He really loves his job, doesn’t he?”

“You don’t know the half of it.” 

Les had found Nick and was enthusiastically shaking his hand when Ginny and Stephen caught up.  Nick and Stephen exchanged helpless looks as they were swept away again by their respective helpers.  Les was obviously hell-bent on serving Stephen to the best of his ability.  He found a clipboard somewhere and jotted notes as he led Stephen through department after department, joking and plying him with goods and suggestions.  He made it seem as if they had all the time in the world to find just the right things for Stephen to take home with him. 

When they finally returned to the main room, Les set down his clipboard on a nearby counter.  “That’s given me an excellent idea of what you like.  I’ll set you up with a customer card.  Just show it whenever you come in, or we can look you up in the system.”  He smiled up at Stephen, radiating satisfaction with a job well done.  “Let’s see what the tally is for today.”

Stephen did his best to stop things in their tracks before the point of no return.  “Thanks but I can’t afford . . .”

Les held up a hand.  “We have a 50% new contracter discount.  I don’t like to see anyone starting off their new life without the proper goods.  I’ll throw in some things on the top.  If you don’t end up using them, bring them back and we’ll donate them to charity.  If you do keep them, we’ll tack on a fiver to your bill whenever you come in until it’s paid up.  Half of that goes to make sure the house breaks even, no profit.  The other half goes to charity.  So it’s winners all ‘round.”

“That’s an interesting business model.”

“It’s self preservation, boyo.  My old dad would come back from the grave to skin me alive if I changed it.”

Stephen laughed.  “Okay, show me the goods.”  So much for derailing train Les.

Even with the 50% discount, Stephen was beginning to seriously worry about how much all of this was going to cost by the time Les had finished his inventory.  “Can I take some now and save the rest for later?”

“Of course.  I’ll make a note in your file so you can still get the 50% off whenever you decide to buy.”

Stephen frowned.  “That’s very generous.”

Les snorted.  “Generous I may be but I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday.  Neither did my dad or his partners.  Trust me, the markup over wholesale cost takes care of our bottom line nicely.  You get what you pay for.  And we don’t get the joy of providing you with what you need if we don’t make a profit.  Now then, I believe we have one last, very important stop before you give me my well-earned money.”

Stephen walked side by side with Les back to the Soothers section.  He looked at his selections, still where he’d left them on the couch.  Stephen picked up the extra long quilt and the manta ray with pockets in the wings for ice packs.  He’d have preferred something less like a kid’s toy but Les had assured him that the ray was the best option.  Les insisted that Stephen take an extra blanket and a selection of his favorite stress balls ‘on top.’  Stephen resolutely did not look at the patchwork seal pup.  It was  made of recycled sweaters in heathered shades of grey, black and tan, wonderfully soft and the perfect fit for his arms.  And even at 50% off it was much more than he could afford.  Stephen gathered his sensible selections and led Les back to the registers.

 

As they neared the counter, Stephen began to feel queasy about purchasing so many things all at once.  He knew he’d gone overboard, but he was fairly sure  he could cover his half of things.  He didn’t want Nick to think he was being greedy.  Or that he made a practice of going on spending sprees.  Ginny and Nick were already at the counter, chatting.  Stephen’s lips tilted up in a small smile.  Apparently, Nick could be a bit of a flirt when the mood took him.  He stared at the counter and avoided Nick’s eyes.  Nick’s hand came to rest on Stephen’s shoulder. 

Les assured them that he would have their purchases wrapped up and delivered to their house that evening at eight sharp.  Items were tallied and Nick paid for his things.  He thanked Les and Ginny for a wonderful experience and assuring them that he looked forward to coming back soon.  Ginny handed Nick his new customer card while Les accepted Stephen’s debit card.  The final total was just under what Stephen had thought.  It was a stretch for him, but he could manage it now that he no longer had rent to worry about. 

Les personally walked them to the door and thanked them again for their business.  He slipped a business card into Stephen’s hand.  He held it with the back side up so that Stephen could see the code written in elegant script under the words ‘The Room I Mentioned.’

Stephen and Nick found a pub with a beer garden and had a nice lunch out in the sunshine.  Stephen had to concentrate on not shifting too much on the wooden bench.  Two spankings in two days had made sure his bum did not appreciate contact with hard surfaces.  Conversation helped, as did good food.  Stephen still felt twitchy when they left the pub and began the walk to the nearest Tube station.  He glanced at Nick to see if his watchover had noticed.  He took a deep breath through his nose.  He began to open his mouth and closed it. He glanced around them.  No one was nearby, but the thought of someone overhearing . . .  Stephen took out his phone and typed out a text.  His watchover glanced at him sideways and opened his mouth to ask.  Nick’s phone chimed.  He drew it out of his pocket and turned to Stephen in confusion.  “Read it first.”

Nick looked back at his phone.  After a moment he typed out a reply.  Stephen’s phone binged.  He looked at the text and smiled.  **Good idea texting me.  Hold on until we get to the house and then we’ll discuss how to do this in the future.**

Nick bumped his shoulder as they both put their phones away.

 

 

_Back at the Cutter-Hart house . . ._

 

Stephen handed Nick his tea and leaned against the arm of the couch.  “I’m still feeling out of sorts. I’ll try not to snap.”  In truth, Stephen felt like he wanted to crawl out of his skin.  He didn’t think voicing that out loud would help matters.  If it got worse, he’d follow the rule and tell Nick.

“Okay.  Any idea what brought it on?”

“Sitting in the pub.  I didn’t want anyone to notice that I was uncomfortable.”

“I don’t think anyone did notice.  You were sitting on the inside, so you would’ve had to be really squirming for it to obvious.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“Just the pub?  Or the whole rigmarole at CSD?”

“I thought I was okay when we left.”   Stephen’d done well in the meeting.  He’d dealt with the hard plastic chair and kept from biting Care Officer Thorne’s head off.  Stephen didn’t like the idea of things sneaking up on him after he thought they were sorted.

Nick came to sit on the couch.  “Let’s make a plan on how to deal with things in public.  I bet it’ll help to know what to expect.”

Stephen raised his hand without thinking and then jerked it back before he could throw the mug at the wall.  He clutched it to him instead and gritted his teeth as hot tea slopped over his hands.  “I am so _sick_ of rules and procedures.”

“This set you get to help decide.”

“’Help’.”

“Yes.”  Nick rose and faced his disciplinary ward.  He stepped back twice when he realized he was hemming Stephen in.  “If you keep going on this way, you’re going to do something I will have to deal with.”

“I _know_ , I know that.”  If he knew how to stop himself, Stephen would have done it already.  He stood and ran a hand through his hair.  “I know it’s only been two days. I can’t keep doing this.  You can’t keep spanking me.”

“You have no choice.”  Nick sighed softly.  “It’s up to you when your next spanking is.”

That was true.  If Stephen didn’t act up, he’d be okay.  _Until the next time._   “What if I do something in public?”

Nick met  his eyes.  “I’ve been thinking about that.  I’ll find a way to let you know you’re in trouble without making it obvious.”

“I can poke you if I’m having a hard time.  That ought to work.”

“A poke.  No tickling, my held.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Your innocent face needs work.”

Stephen shrugged.  “Never said I was innocent.”

Nick laughed, “Aye, that I can believe.  Any lasses you’ve your eye on then, ween?”

Stephen’s mouth twisted, “How would that work?  ‘I fancy you, let’s go for a drink.  Oh, by the way, I’m a handheld and my watchover wants me home by midnight?’”

“Or your housemate.  It’s common courtesy to let them know if you’ll be getting in late.”

“So I can shag some girl I pick up at a bar but if I want a relationship I have to bring them home to Cling for approval.”

“Well I’m not planning on holding your leash in my fist.”

Stephen blinked in surprise at Nick’s casual use of that type of language.  He’d started it, but Nick had taken it to another level.  “Strict standards doesn’t give you a choice.”

“I know.  I’ve no desire to embarrass you, or shut down your love life.  I’ve heard of handhelds getting married, so there must be some way to do it.”

“One more thing to investigate.”  So he could find out exactly how much he couldn’t do anymore.  He met Nick’s eyes.  “So, Fist, are we done here?”

Nick nodded.  “Yes.”  He held up a hand to forestall Stephen.  “I know I said it first, but you need to watch your language.  If you get into the habit in private I’m afraid it could come out at the wrong time in public.”

“Good point.”  _Why was being reasonable so bloody difficult_?  Stephen bared his teeth in a grin.  “You did start it.  Good to know there’s something I could tattle on you for.”

“You will not tattle on me to anyone.  I won’t be forced to spank you for disrespect.”

“It was a _joke_ , Nick!”

“Once you’re settled and on a more even keel, then we can joke about things.  I sympathize, my held.  But you _will_ watch what you say.”

“Fine.  Can we move on to something else?”

“I’ve been meaning to do a review of the literature on a couple possible dig sites.  See if there’s one that stands out as a good bet.  You can help if you like.”

“Can I get a rain check?  I think I’ll get caught up on my e-mail.”

“Of course.  Dinner at seven?”

“Sure.  I’ll come down at 6:30 to help.”

“Don’t bother.  I’ll just heat something up again.”

Stephen made his way up to his room and settled on the bed with his laptop.  He did his best to lose himself in e-mail and browsing the web.  The distraction helped the jitters ease off, but he still felt ‘aggrieved.’  He told himself to keep a lid on it.  Earning another spanking would definitely not help matters.

 

The doorbell rang sometime later when Stephen was in the kitchen getting himself a glass of water.  Nick gestured with his head for Stephen to go answer it.  Stephen paused but couldn’t think of a good reason not to.  It wasn’t like the neighbors weren’t going to notice that a new person had moved into Cutter’s house.  When he opened the door he was startled to see an older woman in sensible shoes, walking trousers, a button down work shirt and a hand knitted cardigan.  She was accompanied by a very full waxed canvas shopping trolley in a tasteful historical bird and vine print in the style of William Morris.  She had a kind face in which were set a pair of keen eyes.  Her shrewd gaze proclaimed that those eyes not only didn’t miss a trick, they would have the secret to the trick worked out before most people had even realized any trick existed.  “You must be Stephen.  I’m Lettie Pritchard.  I live just down there, on the other end of the block.  May I come in?”

Stephen stumbled backwards out of her way.  His teeth clicked shut as he forced down the inane apologies poised in the back of his throat.  Nick emerged from the kitchen with a smile. “Lettie.  I thought I heard your voice.  Do I want to know what’s in the trolley?”  He reached out and took the trolley from their guest, gesturing for her to precede him.  “Can I offer you some tea?” 

Nick raised his eyebrows at Stephen and jerked his head toward the front door.  Which was standing open.  Stephen rushed to close it.  He walked back into the kitchen to the sound of Lettie’s “Yes, thank you.  Tea would be lovely.”

Their guest reached for a chair, noted the pillows piled on the seat and moved over to sit in the chair next to it. Stephen’s face flamed.  She waved a dismissive hand at him.  “Oh, don’t worry about that.  I’d be upset if you’d taken them away just for my sake. You ought to be able to be comfortable in your own home.”  She patted the table in front of Stephen’s chair. “Come tell me about yourself.  I’m sure Nick has told you all about me.”

“Only good things.”

“Now that is a lie, Nick Cutter, and you know it.”

“He called you a benevolent deity.”  Stephen thought that was an acceptable compromise between backing his friend up and throwing him under the bus. 

Lettie barked a laugh, “I’m hardly a goddess, but I wouldn’t mind a bow or two now and then.”

Stephen smiled and found himself relaxing just as he had with Les.  _Note to self.  Other people make much better distractions than reading.  Other people who know about your status._  He had to be careful not to overgeneralize.  One more thing to worry about for the next ten years.  Stephen was getting good at shoving distressing thoughts under his mental carpet.  He turned back to Lettie and the contents of her trolley.

It turned out Lettie had brought them dinner and a throw she had knitted as a “Housewarming present.  Oh dear, that’s not the best thing to call it, is it?  I apologize Stephen.”

Stephen exchanged a confused glance with Nick and assured her it was fine.  Lettie explained.  “Back when I was a girl we used to call it warming the house when someone took in a new handheld.  The whole neighborhood would be invited around to watch the first spanking.  I never liked it, but if you didn’t go everyone would talk.  One of many things I do not miss about those times, let me tell you.”

Stephen refused to let a picture of the scene she described form in his head.  He turned to their guest instead and asked her to fill him in on the neighborhood.

Lettie ended up staying for dinner, despite several attempts to demure.  All of which ended in her finding yet one more thing to tell Nick and Stephen and remaining right where she was.  After the second failure to leave them to eat, Stephen seized the opportunity to turn the conversation to what Nick had been up to at work and heated the food in the microwave himself.  Nick caught on when Stephen set a plate firmly down in front of him, interrupting the older man’s animated explanation of where he was thinking of going for their next expedition. 

 _So Nick still thought Stephen was coming with him_.  Stephen did his best not to hope too much.  His contract probably had some clause about not leaving the country buried in it.  Lettie put her hand on his as he set down her utensils and squeezed.  She changed the subject to her doubts about what to cook for them. She really didn’t know what Stephen liked.  “But you can tell me now, can’t you?  And any allergies or things you just won’t eat.  Don’t be shy, young man.  I can’t stand broccoli and I wouldn’t want anyone to waste the stuff on me.” 

She managed to pull herself away after dinner, insisting - and succeeding this time - in leaving them to eat dessert by themselves.  Stephen and Nick were doing the dishes when the doorbell rang.

“You don’t think she’s come back to give us more stuff, do you?”  Stephen contemplated hiding behind Nick if that were the case.  He’d sensed that Lettie had been holding herself back.  He strongly suspected she had wanted to check if Nick was spanking him properly.  Either that or not too hard.  Stephen didn’t know which of the two lines of questioning he’d prefer.  They were both equally mortifying to contemplate.

Nick called from the front hall. “It’s the packages from TDL.  Come take a look at this!”

Stephen joined Nick in the hall, staring at the heaps of boxes crowding Nick away from his own front door.  Each box was wrapped in brown paper and tied up with sturdy natural cord with a handwritten label addressing it to Nick and Stephen in the corner.  When he came closer, Stephen saw that the TDL logo was embossed into the paper by the label and in the center under the bow.  Unless you knew to look for it, you wouldn’t spot it.  “It’s like the most discrete Father Christmas ever.”

Nick laughed.  “Les Christmas and his elf Ginny.”

They carried the whole lot into the lounge and set about opening them.  Under the plain paper were handsome boxes the purple, blue and bronze of the TDL logo, in solids and a swirled pattern that was half damask and half cursive swoops.  Each box opened to reveal a carefully folded envelope of colored paper in shades to match the outside of  the box.  Unfolding this inner wrapping revealed a layer of cream and sea green tissue paper in which nestled the box’s contents.  Stephen pictured contracters up and down the land saving the beautiful tissue and paper and wrapping their birthday and holiday gifts in it, trees and tables accessorized in TDL colors.  He reached for another box, folded back the paper, pushed aside the tissue and froze.  Nick glanced over and came to peer into the box alongside Stephen.  “Ah.  Surprise.  Les let slip you were eying him.”

“Nick, I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”

“It’s added an extra three quid to the five pound markup on our bills, that’s all.  We can afford it.”  Stephen shook his head.  “Go on, ween.  If he helps you feel better, that’s saving me having to deal with you in a strop and saving you a sore bottom.” 

Stephen knew he should refuse.  He reached into the box and drew the seal pup out.  It fit just as perfectly in his arms now as it had in the shop.  Nick picked a card out of the bottom of the box. “Says here he’s called Wiggle.  You going to stick with that?”

Stephen shook his head.  “Going to share?” 

Stephen held his new soother out in front of him and considered.  “Ralph.” He met Nick’s eyes and dared him to comment.

Nick squeezed Stephen’s shoulder and returned to his pile of boxes.  He had significantly more things to open than his handheld.  Most of Stephen’s boxes held books that had been packaged together in twos and threes, according to theme.  Stephen rose and began clearing up the paper and cardboard.  He was on his way back from a trip to the recycling bin when he noticed Nick go still.  He glanced down and froze. 

Nick had his hands in a box, the tissue folded back so Stephen could see the contents.  There lay two flat, oblong boxes with old fashioned hand-drawn artwork on the sides, one showing a rectangular wooden hairbrush and the other a leather-soled carpet slipper.  Stephen could tell that there were more items below those two.  Something in Stephen turned over at the sight of those pictures framed by Nick’s sturdy hands.  He surged forward, knocked the box away from Nick with one hand and swung his other hand around, fingers curled, knuckles out.  Nick’s eyes widened as he rolled away and to his feet, leaving Stephen on his knees amidst the scattered packaging. 

Nick stood over Stephen as the younger man panted and tried to process what he’d just done.  His watchover knelt beside  him, put his shoulder under Stephen’s chest and heaved them both to their feet.  He pulled Stephen into a hug.  Nick’s voice tickled the hairs by Stephen’s ear.  “Pick up the box with the hairbrush and hand it to me.” 

Stephen shook his head.  Nick’s hand connected with the seat of his jeans in two hearty slaps.  Nick turned him sideways, keeping a hand on his shoulder and one on his back.  “Pick it up and hand it to me.” 

Stephen swayed as he looked down into the box.  He thought that Nick was going to have to swat him again, or force him down.  Stephen reached his hand out.  His knees and torso followed and he stooped to retrieve the box.  The waxed cardboard felt sleek against his fingers.  The corners jutted into his palm.  Nick’s fingers were warm against his as the older man took the box.  Stephen’s disciplinarian tossed the box onto the couch behind them.  “Now the slipper.” 

Stephen accordioned down and retrieved the next box.  As he’d suspected, under the first two boxes were three more.  He stared in dismay at the pictures on the new boxes.  An oval hairbrush, a rubber-soled slipper and a thinner, rectangular item labeled a sporran brush.  He met Nick’s eyes as he handed over the second box.  Nick squeezed his shoulder.  “Hand me the others, one by one.” 

Tears pasted Stephen’s eyelashes together.  He steadied himself with one hand on Nick’s hip as he bent for the third time, then the fourth and finally the fifth.  Nick pulled Stephen back into a strong hug as soon as he’d accepted the last box.  Neither man said anything as Stephen shook and whimpered.  Nick led Stephen back to the couch and sat down next to him, their thighs touching.  He put an arm around Stephen and tugged so that Stephen was leaning against him, head resting against Nick’s collarbone.  He combed his hand through Stephen’s hair for a minute.  The hand disappeared from his hair and reappeared in front of Stephen holding a box.  “Open it, toss the box with the rest and hold on to it for me.” 

Stephen fumbled the box with sweaty, trembling fingers.  He tossed it away, arms too weak to make it the vehement expulsion he wanted.  It settled at Stephen’s feet with a pyrrhic shirring sound.  The hairbrush was solid, weighty and all-too real in his hold.  Nick used his free hand to close the hairbrush in Stephen’s hands.  He lifted their hands up and down, letting Stephen feel the mass of the brush.  “I will spank your bare bottom with this hairbrush.  It is my decision as your watchover when that happens.” 

Nick took the implement back and handed Stephen a second box.  “Same deal.” 

The slipper felt both lighter and firmer in Stephen’s hand.  Nick cradled and weighed it between their hands as he had with the hairbrush.  “I will spank you with this slipper whenever I see fit.” 

The slipper was taken back and the next box appeared.  Lips brushed Stephen’s hairline.  Nick’s hand cupped under his, up and down.  “If I think you’ve earned it, I will spank you with this hairbrush.”

Another box, opened inside a strong hug.  Released from the hold.  Up and down between their hands.  “You will be spanked with this slipper when I decide you’re in enough trouble to warrant it.”

The final box.  Stephen huddled against Nick’s warm chest and wished for a blanket to deal with the chills wafting along his other side.  The sporran brush was rough-bristled and misshapen in his hands after the first two conventional brushes.  “I will spank you with this brush whenever I feel you deserve it.”

Stephen’s watchover set the brush down on his far side and turned sideways to face Stephen.  Nick placed both hands on his handheld’s shoulders and then raised one to cup Stephen’s wet cheek.  Stephen looked back at Nick and saw the lines at the corners of his eyes, the white-washed skin, the taut cheeks.  Nick’s gaze searched Stephen’s face.  There was one thing that Stephen knew for certain.  He’d taken a swing at his watchover and he had to be spanked for it. 

Stephen stood, shucked down his jeans and shorts as one and dove over Nick’s knees.  His arms knocked a brush and slipper to the floor.  He hit the bridge of his nose on the hard handle of a second brush.  The ridge where sole met upper on a slipper barked the inside of one wrist.  The bristles of the sporran brush scraped under his chin.  “I just told you repeatedly that I am the one who decides when and how you are spanked.  Get up.”

Nick sounded very, very certain.  The rest of the implements clattered to the floor as Stephen scrambled upright.  Stephen looked down at them.  Nick bent and pulled Stephen’s clothing back up to his waist.  He hauled Stephen back down to sit beside him on the couch.  “Look at me, my held.”

Stephen looked.  Nick was tired.  And resolute.  “We can’t keep on like this, Stephen.”

Stephen flinched.  “You said you wouldn’t send me back.”  _No, Nick hadn’t said that.  He couldn’t get rid of Stephen for the first 90 days, that was all._

“You are staying right here with me, wee held, come hell or high water.  I will get you through this.  Alright?”  Stephen shook his head.  “You’ve been struggling all day, haven’t you?” 

Stephen nodded.  “I thought I could handle it.”  _Great job with that, Stephen.  You can’t even control yourself now_. 

Nick shook him.  Stephen flopped, too surprised to brace himself against the fierce onslaught.  “I am going to get you to tell me these things if I have to put you over my knee and spank it out of you three times a day!”

Stephen grabbed Nick’s wrists.  “I’ll do better.”

“You can start fresh once we deal with what you just did.” 

Nick released Stephen and rose.  He stooped to pick up the scattered implements and tossed them into a nearby box.  He snagged Ralph by the tail and the sweater seal was added to the box.  Nick gathered the box into the crook of his arm and reached a hand down to his handheld.  Stephen concentrated on the anchoring heat of Nick’s palm against his own as he was pulled to his feet.  Nick placed his hand on Stephen’s lower back, pressing firmly.  “Bedroom, Stephen.”

As they made their way upstairs, Stephen tried to work through the jumble of thoughts in his head and failed.  In Stephen’s room, Nick set the box on the bed and sat.  He reached up, yanked Stephen’s jeans and shorts back down and toppled the younger man over his knees.  Stephen’s watchover made quick work of pinning his charge’s legs and securing his hand at his side.  He rubbed Stephen’s back as he laid out the situation.  “We have had several conversations about you accepting my authority over you.  This morning at CSD, Officer Thorne made it clear to both of us how important it is that you behave.  I spanked you yesterday for not listening.  You still kept quiet today about how you were feeling.  You didn’t ask for my help.  You ignored things until they exploded and you took a swing at me.  I am very serious about this rule, Stephen.  This spanking is going to be hard one.  Anything to say before I start?”

“No.  I was out of line.  I’m sorry, Nick.”  Stephen just wanted this day to be over.  He wondered if maybe, finally, this spanking would be enough to let him cry it all out and start fresh.  Nick was right, they couldn’t keep on like this.  Something needed to give.   

“Sorry doesn’t keep you from being spanked, my held.” 

With that stern pronouncement, Nick’s hand cracked into Stephen’s tender bottom.  Stephen went rigid.  His thoughts crystallized.  He was a handheld.  He was being spanked as a handheld should be.  Nick and he were a 90% match.  There was no one here but Stephen and his watchover.  Stephen yielded.    

Nick proved for the second time in as many days that when he said strict, he meant it.  Stephen suffered through a thorough introduction to the implements that had prompted his loss of control downstairs.  Nick applied each implement to Stephen’s bare bottom in turn, interspersing hard rounds with a brush or slipper with equally hard rounds with his hand.  Stephen was sobbing and desperately contrite well before his watchover was done.  He fought and protested, uncensored and uncaring about anything besides how much it hurt.  When it stopped, he was convinced he wouldn’t sit for a week.  When Nick released him Stephen shoved himself up to bury himself inside Nick’s hug and howl his heart out.  Nick guided them onto the bed and stretched out so that Stephen could settle with his head on Nick’s chest. It took Stephen a very long time to calm.  When he could speak without hiccupping, he croaked, “I’m trying and I still can’t get anything right.”

“You’re doing fine.”

“My bum isn’t.”

“You know how to avoid that.”  Nick squeezed Stephen tight.        

“I thought it would be easier.”

“I don’t think the courts would sentence anyone to a contract if it were easy.” 

Stephen told himself firmly to remember how wonderful it felt to have Nick help him feel better with a hug.  And how truly terrible it felt to be spanked when he’d denied himself that help.  Nick let go of him with one arm and shifted to reach for something.  Stephen tensed.  A mottled patchwork blur appeared in front of his nose.  “We can leave the mess downstairs for the morning.  If you want to put Ralph to the test, I can rub some cream on for you.”

Stephen curled his arms around Ralph.  “Yeah, thanks.” 

For the second time in two days, Stephen dozed off over Nick’s lap, this time with a perfectly soothing armful of sweater-covered seal.  “It’s going to be okay, wee held.  You’ll do better tomorrow.”

Stephen yawned. _Ten more years.  With Nick_.  “Stay with me?”

“Whatever you need, Stephen-mine.”              


End file.
